Tweet
Wherein I Post My Last Hurrah
This will be my last thread. Not my last post, I'll still be around, but I'm not longer going to be posting weekly digests so to speak. I've been sidelined for a while now due to a lack of proper office at home ( that won't be fixed till May either ). Typing on my tablet isn't exactly that effective so I haven't been posting much. However, in the intrevening time I've been much in thought and decided to cease my tomfoolery on CS in favour of shifting it to other stuff I should have been doing years ago ( My own website, novels, etc. Stuff that would allow me to actually change careers. )
In all honesty, this is mainly because I never recovered my trust in CS after my anonymity was threatened by a couple of our members a few months back. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't what really caused all this and my decision. My posting was never quite the same after that as I've had to spend more and more time editing, changing details, cutting this and that for fear it would threaten my identity. Posting was no longer fun. It was a chore that took twice as long as it use too and came with an uncomfortable element of risk. So this will be my last regular thread. I'll still be around, in a replying capacity, and may still post anything particularly amazing that occurs at work. But no longer will I be posting weekly updates so to speak.
However, its been a fun ride all these years, and I am deeply thankful for everyone that's been reading and laughing along with my suffering as a customer service drone all this time. Thank you, and I hope to still post a chuckle now and then.
Unexpected
Me: “Good evening, how may I help you?”
SC: "……………………….”
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “Oh! I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
You….weren’t expecting anyone? You were watching TV, saw the number that said to call now to order and you weren’t expecting anyone to answer when you called? On top of that, despite not expecting anyone, you still called. I’m curious as to how you not only arrived at your original conclusion, but subsequently ignored it as well. That’s not one but two questionable courses of action that some people might classify with a term such as “Alarmingly witless”, but I digress.
Sadly, its frowned upon for us to directly inquire precisely how and why a caller’s ability to reason has so tragically failed them. Thus I can only dream up my own theories as to precisely what has occurred. So I will assume the commercial was so exciting that when the number to popped up you became completely overwhelmed. Causing you to leap from sofa so fast you launched the cat into the TV and lost your balance before braining yourself on the corner of the coffee table like your mom always warned you would happen when you were tearing around the house when you were 5.
But so great was lust for 3am infomercial product quality that despite suffering a serious head injury you preserved and managed to dial up our number anyhow. But alas most of your senses had already been knocked loose and were possibly dribbling on the carpet by the time you got to the phone. Still! I salute your dedication to the brand and will gladly accept your order. Well done, ma’am. Well done.
Now, do yourself a favour and call an ambulance.
ONLY
Me: “What size would you like?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “Hmm, I’m afraid I only have that in stock in 1XL and 2XL”
SC: “Oh….do you have it in small?”
Me: “No, only 1XL and 2XL.”
SC: “Uh……..do you have it in large?”
……Do not push me sir, you may be in the middle of nowhere hundreds of kilometers from civilization but I will make it there and I will find you even if I have to bring my own sled dogs. Then I will hold you down and tattoo the following backwards on your forehead:
on·ly [ohn-lee]
adverb
1. without others or anything further; alone; solely; exclusively
So that you see it in the mirror every morning when you wake up. So perhaps someday you might finally grasp the meaning of the word a-……wait. That would require you to read. Hmmmmm, a flaw in an otherwise fine plan. Very well. I will make my way there, I will find you and then the two of us are going to sit down and watch us some Reading Rainbow until you’ve absorbed some measure of wisdom from Geordi La Forge.
Then I will have that tattooed on your forehead backwards.
Tragic Fate
SC: “What was it made out of again?”
Me: “Aluminum.”
SC: “It’s made of el…lunaman?”
Not unless his superhero career came to a tragic end when he fell into the equipment at the factory.
The Foresaken Corner
Sadly, the Foresaker Corner has been reclaimed by its original.....troupe. I assume Hobo Mojo actually has a gig to play somewhere on a Friday night and receives payment for their talents that does not involve spare change in a Tim Horton’s cup. Unfortunately, the regular resident "rapper" managed to achieve a new state so devoid of skill and talent that its actually become a negative. He’s inverted talent somehow and the universe is desperately trying to restore balance by sapping the abilities of passersby to plug the hole in reality he’s created. I forgot how to use MS Office for about 5 minutes after walking by him.
He’s not even being inept anymore, he’s traded in ineptness for being as dull and generic as is humanly possible. All of his lyrics now are just a string of rap clichés strung together in a half conscious monotone repeated over and over. He was getting down with it and had phat beats which helped him keep it real on the streets. Yo dawg. He was very focused on attempting to keep things real. On the streets. With phat beats. Down with it. Yo dawg. Word. ( Repeat ad nauseum until someone drops some change in your cup ).
He may not have had any talent before, but at least his desperate struggling for rhyming words was entertaining. Now he’s talentless and boring. Which is no fun at all.
I Believe I Answered That
Me: “Thank you for calling <company> Tech Support.“
SC: “Is this the Comfort Inn?”
The answers you seek lay buried deep within the last 5 seconds of your short term memory. Look deep within yourself, young one, and wisdom will come to you.
Archaic
Me: “And when does the card expire?”
SC: “November, 1913.”
….Right, okay. I know I’ve made a few jokes about how old callers on this line are. But…seriously. How old are you? How did you live this long? What secrets do you hold, Time Wizard?!
Evidence Trail
You know, if you’re on the Skytrain sitting in a double seat….and the seat next to you is full of white liquid. Which is dripping down onto the floor. Which has formed a massive puddle that has spread out over half the Skytrain car….maybe, just maybe you should check that carton of milk in your grocery bag beside you.
I’m just saying.
Buddy
SC: “Hey buddy”
….Hello.
SC: “I need a cab”
You’re out of lucky, buddy.
Me: “You have the wrong number”
SC: “Oh, what’s the number for the cab?”
What’s the boiling point of mercury?
Me: “I don’t know, sorry.”
SC: “Oh, good.”
Really, buddy? Really? Sarcasm? I think we need to step back here a moment. Look at the big picture together, just you and me. We’re buds after all, right? Right, now….see here’s the problem: Essentially, you have called a wrong number, which means you’re speaking to a random stranger. So you’re calling a random stranger in the dead of night and then, instead of apologizing for this, actually having the gall to ask them a question for which you have no reason to expect they may have the answer. Then, when they don’t have the answer ( surprise surprise ) you’re acting all sarcastic and passive aggressive.
Do you know who does that sort of thing? Jerks, that’s who. You’re not a jerk, are you buddy? Because I ain’t buds with no jerks, let me tell you. No sir.
I don’t think we can be friends anymore.
Clarifications
Hello, sir! Since you seem a little unclear as to the exact purpose of this line is, allow me to present you with a helpful list!
Things I Care About:
- Customer inquiries
- Arranging call backs from representatives to assist you
- Leaving messages for specific staff members
- Customer service for existing customers
Things I Don’t Care About:
- That you’re with the Green Party
- That you think we should look energy effecient lightbulbs for the office
- That you joined the Green Party because of your concern for the environment
- That you think I should encourage the company to be more environmentally friendly by marketing "earthy" colours.
- That you have solar panels.
- That they don’t actually help much because they don’t move so they can’t always face the sun.
- That you’re old so none of this actually matters much to you because you’ll be dead soon anyway.
I hope that helps you in your future endeavours with our company. Also, I’m not sure I’ve ever talked to an environmental nihilist before. So, that’s a first for me. Thank you.
O...Kay
…Are you….brushing your teeth? While trying to order? Right-o then.
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Mhumplaceorduhcod”
I’ll take that as a yes.
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “What’s the area code for it please?”
SC: “Uh…..rabbit.”
…I….don’t…..what? Rabbit? What….what exactly goes on inside your head that “Rabbit” appeared on the list of possible answers for that question? How did you possibly come up with that? I mean, misunderstanding and giving me your postal code is one thing. But I asked for your area code and you gave me a mammal.
BROMEISTER
After being stuck on the Skytrain this evening, listening to 5 idiots have an alarming in-depth discussion about “Colin’s farts” all the way downtown I was quite eager to get off the train. But no sooner had I gotten off the train then I ran headlong into what I can only describe as the ultimate douchebag. I have dubbed him the Bro-Meister, and while our time together was short, I am none the less both horrified and incredulous of his existence. I thought people like that existed only in sitcoms and reality TV.
He stepped off the Skytrain with a beer, cigarette ( No Smoking signs mean nothing to the Bro-Meister! ), sunglasses already on ( It is rather bright downtown a quarter to midnight I guess ), baseball cap on backwards, fake tan ( Only a Tan in a Can is good enough for the Bro-Meister! ), tank top with track jacket over top and an abundance of “gold” chains ( The dude hawking them on the corner assures the Bro-Meister they’re 24 karat! ). Then proceeded to strut towards the elevator ( The Bro-Meister walks nowhere ). Which caused him to drop his cell phone ( Hard to hold a beer, cigarette and a cell phone at the same time really. Even for the Bro-Meister ). After scrambling to pick it up while retaining his coolness, he stopped a pair of tourists taking a picture right before the escalator. He immediately jumped into the frame and urged them to include him. “Dude! Take a picture of me too! Come on, it’ll be like a Kodak moment!”. ( Who wouldn’t want a picture with the Bro-Meister? ) They stared at him in awkward silence until he reluctantly moved on. ( The Bro-Meister is sad. )
Then, upon riding the escalator up, he spotted a female that struck his fancy on the opposite side riding the escalator down. This prompted a very loud “Mhmm, would you look at this? Hey, babygirl! Yeah, girl, you fine.” Before he realized they were travelling in opposite directions. ( The Bro-Meister is in trouble! ) Forcing him to turn around and try to go down the up escalator to stay within earshot of her. ( The Bro-Meister yields not to physics! ) Continuing his alluring seduction “Hey, can’t you hear me babygirl?! Aww, take off your headphones so you can hear me girl! Come on, take em off, babygirl! I just wanna talk!”. All the while trying to juggle beer, cigarette, cell phone and come hither gestures. ( No one can resist the Bro-Meister’s natural charm and roguish good looks! ).
Thankfully, the escalator continued to take me up and out of ear shot before I felt any more embarrassed for the human race. ( The Bro-Meister feels no shame! )
Please.
I don’t believe I’ve ever had to say this before in all my years working here, but: Sir, I would be quite happy to discuss our services with you. But first do you think you could please turn your porn down?
Guesswork
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…….Patrick?”
Are you guessing or are you asking me if that’s correct? Because I don’t know, that’s why I asked you. It’s your name, dude. Not mine. I know my name, strangely enough. I’m not sure why you’d expect me to know yours though. I know you find it both amazing and somewhat alarming that you can just pick something up and talk into it, then a giant iron bird brings you stuff two weeks later. However, I am actually an ordinary person. I am not a genie who lives in the phone. It’s not like you have to rub the side of the phone before you dial to summon me or anythi-…..you…..rubbed the side of the phone before you called me didn’t you?
Whatever You Want, Sir
SC: “What was your name?”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
SC: "Yes, but what’s your name?”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
SC: “No no, your name.”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
I can’t tell if you’re mishearing me, or if you just think “Gravekeeper” is too ridiculous a name for anyone to actually have. Still, I’d rather not sit here and argue with you over what my name is for the next 5 minutes. I can be Frank if it will get you off the line faster. No? How about Bob? Steve? Phillip? Moses? Wagner? No? None of those? Hmmm. Richard? Gary? Moon Unit? I’m open to suggestions. In fact, you know what? Why don’t you decide. Just pick whatever you like. It’s okay, go ahead. I’m flexible.
You Do That Then
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “I’m calling to, uh, unform.”
You’re calling to render yourself formless? Well, be my guest I guess. I have no idea how you plan to accomplish that, but it does sound like you’ll at least have to put down the phone. So I’m in, go for fit.
Error
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “It’s the….uh…..C....A.....T.....A.........L.....uh..... .O......<ba-ding>”
…Do you own a computer or was that your brain that just make the Windows error noise? Honestly, the latter seems more likely than the former all things considered. I kind of wish all of my callers came with that feature come to think of it. It’d let me know when I need to dumb down my instructions to the same level I use with my cat. Probably in the same voice too.
Good Tradeoff
SC: “Can I make order please?!”
On one hand, incapable of forming proper sentences. On the other, is actually polite. I’ll take what I can get.
It Did, Did It?
SC: “The pipe disenlocated.”
Disenlocated, you say? Well, that is quite unfortunate. Would you say it’s more disjointabobulated or deconstructulated? I need to figure out whether we should send a plumber or a philosophy major.
SC: “Funky things are happening”
You’re going to have to be a little more descriptive. Are you talking Soul Train funky, Funky Town funky or Month Old Unwashed Gymsock funky?
Do You Now?
SC: “I WANNA ORDER A HAT”
I’d tell you to colour me surprised, but I wore that crayon down to a nub years ago. Here, use “Depressingly Predictable Blue”. I’m trying to save “Stunned Disbelief Yellow” and “You Can’t Be Serious Orange” though.
<Twitch>
You know….I hate to interrupt….but you’ve been furiously flipping catalog pages for a full minute now desperately searching for this mythical second item you wish to order. I mean, I don’t mind waiting for a bit, but I can’t help but feel that this endeavour is futile. Perhaps the item you’re thinking of doesn’t really exist. Perhaps it was just your imagination all along. Perhaps you saw it in a dream. Perhaps this ethereal hoodie you see in your mind is really just the manifestation of growing up the middle kid and never getting enough attention from your parents leading you to a misguided life of wild parties and petty crime. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, this is all a cry for help.
SC: “Oh, it’s xxxx”
….Or perhaps it was on the same page as the first item you ordered all along and you’ve just been searching everywhere except where it actually was. Despite the fact it is quite literally the one directly below the first item you ordered on the page.
50/50
Me: “Will this be by credit card or COD?”
SC: “…..uhhhhh…………….”
You know what? I’m not even going to explain the difference this time. I have tried many times, and they have all been in vain. Hmmmm….still, I would be failing in my role as a CSR if I did not at least offer some form of assistance.
Tell you what: Flip a coin.
Hidden Wants
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Hmm, sorry, we don’t seem to have that in stock.”
SC: “Oh, let me try a different one…….xxxx.”
Me: “I don’t have that one either….you said this a 2012 catalog?”
SC: “Uh…wait, 2008.”
Have you wondered if it was possible to bludgeon someone to death with the board game “Clue”?
I have.
The Foresaken Corner
The former champ is once again out this evening. Though his wingmen were suspicious absence. I assume, once again, that the group has tragically disbanded. With the other members returning to their dayjobs. While our lone hero soldiers on stoically by himself. Being bitter and lonely once more, he reverted back to sidewalk sexual harassment. Because, apparently, the way to a woman’s heart is by lunging at her with a microphone, screaming some incomprehensible rap about how big her cleavage is. Of course, this is master lyricist we’re talking about, so he immediately tried to rhyme “Cleavage” with “Treason”.
Though I think my favourite line of this evening’s performance was “My tomatoes are a hot tub”.
Monikers
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “….Ummmm…..”
Why is this so hard? No, really. Please, level with me here. What’s going on up there? How do you have to think about that one to come up with an answer? The vast majority of domestic house pets are aware of what their name is. So why, why is it always so hard on this line? Perhaps there is some sort of cultural barrier at work here….is that it? Are your names…non-verbal? Do they require some sort of elaborate hand gestures, dance moves and/or possibly smells to communicate? Thus forcing you to choose rarely used verbal names for when you must communicate with the outlander savages such as myself?
Is your name really “Two fist pumps to the east and the faint smell of walnut”?
I'm Hurt
Me: “Are you calling about our roofing system?”
SC: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Hello, sir, can I help you?”
SC: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Yes, can I help you, sir?”
SC: “Yeah, you’re the wrong person to be doing any kind of selling. Goodbye! <click>”
On one hand, I think my feelings should be hurt somehow. On the other, I have absolutely no idea why. What test did you put forth to me, o wise one, and how did I fail to live up to it?
All Knowing
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, for non-urgent calls you’ll have to call back during office hours.”
SC: “Well what do you do?”
Me: “We take urgent calls for the office afterhours.”
SC: “Well then what do you get paid for?”
I do believe you’ll find that if you think back to just a few seconds ago you’ll discover that I am in fact so good at my job I answered your last question before you even asked it. Pretty amazing, right? That’s just the level of quality service and foresight that we here at <company> strive to provide!
Friendship
SC: “I was trying to use the Internet to make new friends.”
Me: “….I’m sorry?”
SC: “Could you add me so I can type for you? My microphone is so bad.”
Me: “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.”
SC: “No, I’m just trying to make new friends.”
You’re randomly dialing numbers over Skype in the dead of night in a futile quest to make new friends? That’s…alarmingly desperate of you and honestly sitting somewhere between serial killer and underwear thief on the Big List Of Creepy Behaviour. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you haven’t made any new friends yet. But, well, you seem so lonely, so maybe I can give you a pointer or two on your quest for friendship? There are a few common pitfalls that, apparently, many people run into when trying to make friends and meet new people. I think I can point at least one of them for you:
Don’t call strangers in the middle of the night and ask them if they want to be your friend.
Oh, Fine.
SC:: “What’s the SR number?”
Me: “The technician will give you an SR number when he returns your call, sir.”
SC: “Oh, alright. So what’s the SR number?”
……Toast. The SR number is toast.
Monotony
SC: “Hmm, I wonder if a size small would fit me…..”
Me: “……..”
SC: "…...what do you think?”
You know, the lot of you on this line make the exact same stupid mistakes and ask the same stupid questions so often that you’ve essentially become cartoon like caricatures of yourselves. There’s only so many ways I can poke fun at you and so many jokes I can make at your expense. You’re running me out of material here! I can’t think of any other strange explanations for your behaviour, alright? We’ve covered everything from alcoholism to tragic head injuries to an abundance of childhood glue ingestion. There are only so many ways I can insinuate that they forgot to add chlorine to your gene pool. I don’t know how else I can poke fun your education system where the sole focus of grade 1-12 seems to be waving a stick around and making spaceship noises with your mouth.
There’s just no real nice way to say it anymore: You’re so stupid the English language has run out of ways to call you stupid. Okay? Alright? ….Whew. Felt good to finally get that off my chest. I feel much better now, thanks for listening!
Easy There
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “FRANK WANT ORDER 2 CAPS”
It seems there’s been a misunderstanding here. April Fool’s Day is, despite its name, is actually a day for playing pranks. Not a day that celebrates, well, you and encourages you to stumble out into the public at large to do what you do best. I know you were probably really excited when you heard about it, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but please put the phone down and go back to whatever it was you were doing before. Which I will assume was something involving gnawing on furniture or possibly wood chips if your friends read the care and feeding manual.
SC: “WANT TO BUY 2 CAP”
This is really going to be one of those “My lord, how did you even dial our number?” calls isn’t it?
Me: “Alright, so, Frank, F-R-A-N-K?”
SC: “Uh….F.......R......A......uhhh..."
Right, let’s just skip that one and move on. I’d like to keep my call time under half an hour.
Me: “And how do you spell your last name please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…….S........I........M.......O...no, wait. E? E......"
....Forget it, I'll just take a guess. Moving on.
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “What’s the area code for your phone number?”
SC: “<postal code>”
You’re….not going to get a single question right, are you?
Me: “Do you have a box number?”
SC: “Um….Box 531? Wait…..4...79?”
Not a single one.
Me: “That should arrive in about two weeks.”
SC: “How many weeks until it comin’ in?”
Me: “…Two.”
Do be careful when you go to hang up the phone, alright? It’d be a shame if you got tangled up in the phone cord and strangled yourself right after your moment of hat based glory. But I guess if it’s any consolation, the hats would arrive in time for the funeral. So at least you could be buried in “style”.
Seriously, Who Are You?
Me: “And this was what store?”
SC: “This is the store in….uh, I don’t know, where ever.”
….You don’t know where you are or where you work? I’m going to need a little bit of information to work with here. I don’t suppose you could maybe give me a hint? Even a province? Maybe an area code?
Me: “Can I have your phone number please, ma’am?”
SC: “Oh….uhhhh…..I don’t know….can I call you back?”
So you don’t know where you work, where you are or how to reach you? Do you even work there or did you just stumble in off the street and now you can't figure out how to log into Facebook on a cash register?
annnd rest.
In all honesty, this is mainly because I never recovered my trust in CS after my anonymity was threatened by a couple of our members a few months back. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't what really caused all this and my decision. My posting was never quite the same after that as I've had to spend more and more time editing, changing details, cutting this and that for fear it would threaten my identity. Posting was no longer fun. It was a chore that took twice as long as it use too and came with an uncomfortable element of risk. So this will be my last regular thread. I'll still be around, in a replying capacity, and may still post anything particularly amazing that occurs at work. But no longer will I be posting weekly updates so to speak.
However, its been a fun ride all these years, and I am deeply thankful for everyone that's been reading and laughing along with my suffering as a customer service drone all this time. Thank you, and I hope to still post a chuckle now and then.
Unexpected
Me: “Good evening, how may I help you?”
SC: "……………………….”
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “Oh! I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
You….weren’t expecting anyone? You were watching TV, saw the number that said to call now to order and you weren’t expecting anyone to answer when you called? On top of that, despite not expecting anyone, you still called. I’m curious as to how you not only arrived at your original conclusion, but subsequently ignored it as well. That’s not one but two questionable courses of action that some people might classify with a term such as “Alarmingly witless”, but I digress.
Sadly, its frowned upon for us to directly inquire precisely how and why a caller’s ability to reason has so tragically failed them. Thus I can only dream up my own theories as to precisely what has occurred. So I will assume the commercial was so exciting that when the number to popped up you became completely overwhelmed. Causing you to leap from sofa so fast you launched the cat into the TV and lost your balance before braining yourself on the corner of the coffee table like your mom always warned you would happen when you were tearing around the house when you were 5.
But so great was lust for 3am infomercial product quality that despite suffering a serious head injury you preserved and managed to dial up our number anyhow. But alas most of your senses had already been knocked loose and were possibly dribbling on the carpet by the time you got to the phone. Still! I salute your dedication to the brand and will gladly accept your order. Well done, ma’am. Well done.
Now, do yourself a favour and call an ambulance.
ONLY
Me: “What size would you like?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “Hmm, I’m afraid I only have that in stock in 1XL and 2XL”
SC: “Oh….do you have it in small?”
Me: “No, only 1XL and 2XL.”
SC: “Uh……..do you have it in large?”
……Do not push me sir, you may be in the middle of nowhere hundreds of kilometers from civilization but I will make it there and I will find you even if I have to bring my own sled dogs. Then I will hold you down and tattoo the following backwards on your forehead:
on·ly [ohn-lee]
adverb
1. without others or anything further; alone; solely; exclusively
So that you see it in the mirror every morning when you wake up. So perhaps someday you might finally grasp the meaning of the word a-……wait. That would require you to read. Hmmmmm, a flaw in an otherwise fine plan. Very well. I will make my way there, I will find you and then the two of us are going to sit down and watch us some Reading Rainbow until you’ve absorbed some measure of wisdom from Geordi La Forge.
Then I will have that tattooed on your forehead backwards.
Tragic Fate
SC: “What was it made out of again?”
Me: “Aluminum.”
SC: “It’s made of el…lunaman?”
Not unless his superhero career came to a tragic end when he fell into the equipment at the factory.
The Foresaken Corner
Sadly, the Foresaker Corner has been reclaimed by its original.....troupe. I assume Hobo Mojo actually has a gig to play somewhere on a Friday night and receives payment for their talents that does not involve spare change in a Tim Horton’s cup. Unfortunately, the regular resident "rapper" managed to achieve a new state so devoid of skill and talent that its actually become a negative. He’s inverted talent somehow and the universe is desperately trying to restore balance by sapping the abilities of passersby to plug the hole in reality he’s created. I forgot how to use MS Office for about 5 minutes after walking by him.
He’s not even being inept anymore, he’s traded in ineptness for being as dull and generic as is humanly possible. All of his lyrics now are just a string of rap clichés strung together in a half conscious monotone repeated over and over. He was getting down with it and had phat beats which helped him keep it real on the streets. Yo dawg. He was very focused on attempting to keep things real. On the streets. With phat beats. Down with it. Yo dawg. Word. ( Repeat ad nauseum until someone drops some change in your cup ).
He may not have had any talent before, but at least his desperate struggling for rhyming words was entertaining. Now he’s talentless and boring. Which is no fun at all.
I Believe I Answered That
Me: “Thank you for calling <company> Tech Support.“
SC: “Is this the Comfort Inn?”
The answers you seek lay buried deep within the last 5 seconds of your short term memory. Look deep within yourself, young one, and wisdom will come to you.
Archaic
Me: “And when does the card expire?”
SC: “November, 1913.”
….Right, okay. I know I’ve made a few jokes about how old callers on this line are. But…seriously. How old are you? How did you live this long? What secrets do you hold, Time Wizard?!
Evidence Trail
You know, if you’re on the Skytrain sitting in a double seat….and the seat next to you is full of white liquid. Which is dripping down onto the floor. Which has formed a massive puddle that has spread out over half the Skytrain car….maybe, just maybe you should check that carton of milk in your grocery bag beside you.
I’m just saying.
Buddy
SC: “Hey buddy”
….Hello.
SC: “I need a cab”
You’re out of lucky, buddy.
Me: “You have the wrong number”
SC: “Oh, what’s the number for the cab?”
What’s the boiling point of mercury?
Me: “I don’t know, sorry.”
SC: “Oh, good.”
Really, buddy? Really? Sarcasm? I think we need to step back here a moment. Look at the big picture together, just you and me. We’re buds after all, right? Right, now….see here’s the problem: Essentially, you have called a wrong number, which means you’re speaking to a random stranger. So you’re calling a random stranger in the dead of night and then, instead of apologizing for this, actually having the gall to ask them a question for which you have no reason to expect they may have the answer. Then, when they don’t have the answer ( surprise surprise ) you’re acting all sarcastic and passive aggressive.
Do you know who does that sort of thing? Jerks, that’s who. You’re not a jerk, are you buddy? Because I ain’t buds with no jerks, let me tell you. No sir.
I don’t think we can be friends anymore.
Clarifications
Hello, sir! Since you seem a little unclear as to the exact purpose of this line is, allow me to present you with a helpful list!
Things I Care About:
- Customer inquiries
- Arranging call backs from representatives to assist you
- Leaving messages for specific staff members
- Customer service for existing customers
Things I Don’t Care About:
- That you’re with the Green Party
- That you think we should look energy effecient lightbulbs for the office
- That you joined the Green Party because of your concern for the environment
- That you think I should encourage the company to be more environmentally friendly by marketing "earthy" colours.
- That you have solar panels.
- That they don’t actually help much because they don’t move so they can’t always face the sun.
- That you’re old so none of this actually matters much to you because you’ll be dead soon anyway.
I hope that helps you in your future endeavours with our company. Also, I’m not sure I’ve ever talked to an environmental nihilist before. So, that’s a first for me. Thank you.
O...Kay
…Are you….brushing your teeth? While trying to order? Right-o then.
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Mhumplaceorduhcod”
I’ll take that as a yes.
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “What’s the area code for it please?”
SC: “Uh…..rabbit.”
…I….don’t…..what? Rabbit? What….what exactly goes on inside your head that “Rabbit” appeared on the list of possible answers for that question? How did you possibly come up with that? I mean, misunderstanding and giving me your postal code is one thing. But I asked for your area code and you gave me a mammal.
BROMEISTER
After being stuck on the Skytrain this evening, listening to 5 idiots have an alarming in-depth discussion about “Colin’s farts” all the way downtown I was quite eager to get off the train. But no sooner had I gotten off the train then I ran headlong into what I can only describe as the ultimate douchebag. I have dubbed him the Bro-Meister, and while our time together was short, I am none the less both horrified and incredulous of his existence. I thought people like that existed only in sitcoms and reality TV.
He stepped off the Skytrain with a beer, cigarette ( No Smoking signs mean nothing to the Bro-Meister! ), sunglasses already on ( It is rather bright downtown a quarter to midnight I guess ), baseball cap on backwards, fake tan ( Only a Tan in a Can is good enough for the Bro-Meister! ), tank top with track jacket over top and an abundance of “gold” chains ( The dude hawking them on the corner assures the Bro-Meister they’re 24 karat! ). Then proceeded to strut towards the elevator ( The Bro-Meister walks nowhere ). Which caused him to drop his cell phone ( Hard to hold a beer, cigarette and a cell phone at the same time really. Even for the Bro-Meister ). After scrambling to pick it up while retaining his coolness, he stopped a pair of tourists taking a picture right before the escalator. He immediately jumped into the frame and urged them to include him. “Dude! Take a picture of me too! Come on, it’ll be like a Kodak moment!”. ( Who wouldn’t want a picture with the Bro-Meister? ) They stared at him in awkward silence until he reluctantly moved on. ( The Bro-Meister is sad. )
Then, upon riding the escalator up, he spotted a female that struck his fancy on the opposite side riding the escalator down. This prompted a very loud “Mhmm, would you look at this? Hey, babygirl! Yeah, girl, you fine.” Before he realized they were travelling in opposite directions. ( The Bro-Meister is in trouble! ) Forcing him to turn around and try to go down the up escalator to stay within earshot of her. ( The Bro-Meister yields not to physics! ) Continuing his alluring seduction “Hey, can’t you hear me babygirl?! Aww, take off your headphones so you can hear me girl! Come on, take em off, babygirl! I just wanna talk!”. All the while trying to juggle beer, cigarette, cell phone and come hither gestures. ( No one can resist the Bro-Meister’s natural charm and roguish good looks! ).
Thankfully, the escalator continued to take me up and out of ear shot before I felt any more embarrassed for the human race. ( The Bro-Meister feels no shame! )
Please.
I don’t believe I’ve ever had to say this before in all my years working here, but: Sir, I would be quite happy to discuss our services with you. But first do you think you could please turn your porn down?
Guesswork
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…….Patrick?”
Are you guessing or are you asking me if that’s correct? Because I don’t know, that’s why I asked you. It’s your name, dude. Not mine. I know my name, strangely enough. I’m not sure why you’d expect me to know yours though. I know you find it both amazing and somewhat alarming that you can just pick something up and talk into it, then a giant iron bird brings you stuff two weeks later. However, I am actually an ordinary person. I am not a genie who lives in the phone. It’s not like you have to rub the side of the phone before you dial to summon me or anythi-…..you…..rubbed the side of the phone before you called me didn’t you?
Whatever You Want, Sir
SC: “What was your name?”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
SC: "Yes, but what’s your name?”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
SC: “No no, your name.”
Me: “Gravekeeper.”
I can’t tell if you’re mishearing me, or if you just think “Gravekeeper” is too ridiculous a name for anyone to actually have. Still, I’d rather not sit here and argue with you over what my name is for the next 5 minutes. I can be Frank if it will get you off the line faster. No? How about Bob? Steve? Phillip? Moses? Wagner? No? None of those? Hmmm. Richard? Gary? Moon Unit? I’m open to suggestions. In fact, you know what? Why don’t you decide. Just pick whatever you like. It’s okay, go ahead. I’m flexible.
You Do That Then
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “I’m calling to, uh, unform.”
You’re calling to render yourself formless? Well, be my guest I guess. I have no idea how you plan to accomplish that, but it does sound like you’ll at least have to put down the phone. So I’m in, go for fit.
Error
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “It’s the….uh…..C....A.....T.....A.........L.....uh..... .O......<ba-ding>”
…Do you own a computer or was that your brain that just make the Windows error noise? Honestly, the latter seems more likely than the former all things considered. I kind of wish all of my callers came with that feature come to think of it. It’d let me know when I need to dumb down my instructions to the same level I use with my cat. Probably in the same voice too.
Good Tradeoff
SC: “Can I make order please?!”
On one hand, incapable of forming proper sentences. On the other, is actually polite. I’ll take what I can get.
It Did, Did It?
SC: “The pipe disenlocated.”
Disenlocated, you say? Well, that is quite unfortunate. Would you say it’s more disjointabobulated or deconstructulated? I need to figure out whether we should send a plumber or a philosophy major.
SC: “Funky things are happening”
You’re going to have to be a little more descriptive. Are you talking Soul Train funky, Funky Town funky or Month Old Unwashed Gymsock funky?
Do You Now?
SC: “I WANNA ORDER A HAT”
I’d tell you to colour me surprised, but I wore that crayon down to a nub years ago. Here, use “Depressingly Predictable Blue”. I’m trying to save “Stunned Disbelief Yellow” and “You Can’t Be Serious Orange” though.
<Twitch>
You know….I hate to interrupt….but you’ve been furiously flipping catalog pages for a full minute now desperately searching for this mythical second item you wish to order. I mean, I don’t mind waiting for a bit, but I can’t help but feel that this endeavour is futile. Perhaps the item you’re thinking of doesn’t really exist. Perhaps it was just your imagination all along. Perhaps you saw it in a dream. Perhaps this ethereal hoodie you see in your mind is really just the manifestation of growing up the middle kid and never getting enough attention from your parents leading you to a misguided life of wild parties and petty crime. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, this is all a cry for help.
SC: “Oh, it’s xxxx”
….Or perhaps it was on the same page as the first item you ordered all along and you’ve just been searching everywhere except where it actually was. Despite the fact it is quite literally the one directly below the first item you ordered on the page.
50/50
Me: “Will this be by credit card or COD?”
SC: “…..uhhhhh…………….”
You know what? I’m not even going to explain the difference this time. I have tried many times, and they have all been in vain. Hmmmm….still, I would be failing in my role as a CSR if I did not at least offer some form of assistance.
Tell you what: Flip a coin.
Hidden Wants
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Hmm, sorry, we don’t seem to have that in stock.”
SC: “Oh, let me try a different one…….xxxx.”
Me: “I don’t have that one either….you said this a 2012 catalog?”
SC: “Uh…wait, 2008.”
Have you wondered if it was possible to bludgeon someone to death with the board game “Clue”?
I have.
The Foresaken Corner
The former champ is once again out this evening. Though his wingmen were suspicious absence. I assume, once again, that the group has tragically disbanded. With the other members returning to their dayjobs. While our lone hero soldiers on stoically by himself. Being bitter and lonely once more, he reverted back to sidewalk sexual harassment. Because, apparently, the way to a woman’s heart is by lunging at her with a microphone, screaming some incomprehensible rap about how big her cleavage is. Of course, this is master lyricist we’re talking about, so he immediately tried to rhyme “Cleavage” with “Treason”.
Though I think my favourite line of this evening’s performance was “My tomatoes are a hot tub”.
Monikers
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “….Ummmm…..”
Why is this so hard? No, really. Please, level with me here. What’s going on up there? How do you have to think about that one to come up with an answer? The vast majority of domestic house pets are aware of what their name is. So why, why is it always so hard on this line? Perhaps there is some sort of cultural barrier at work here….is that it? Are your names…non-verbal? Do they require some sort of elaborate hand gestures, dance moves and/or possibly smells to communicate? Thus forcing you to choose rarely used verbal names for when you must communicate with the outlander savages such as myself?
Is your name really “Two fist pumps to the east and the faint smell of walnut”?
I'm Hurt
Me: “Are you calling about our roofing system?”
SC: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Hello, sir, can I help you?”
SC: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Yes, can I help you, sir?”
SC: “Yeah, you’re the wrong person to be doing any kind of selling. Goodbye! <click>”
On one hand, I think my feelings should be hurt somehow. On the other, I have absolutely no idea why. What test did you put forth to me, o wise one, and how did I fail to live up to it?
All Knowing
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, for non-urgent calls you’ll have to call back during office hours.”
SC: “Well what do you do?”
Me: “We take urgent calls for the office afterhours.”
SC: “Well then what do you get paid for?”
I do believe you’ll find that if you think back to just a few seconds ago you’ll discover that I am in fact so good at my job I answered your last question before you even asked it. Pretty amazing, right? That’s just the level of quality service and foresight that we here at <company> strive to provide!
Friendship
SC: “I was trying to use the Internet to make new friends.”
Me: “….I’m sorry?”
SC: “Could you add me so I can type for you? My microphone is so bad.”
Me: “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.”
SC: “No, I’m just trying to make new friends.”
You’re randomly dialing numbers over Skype in the dead of night in a futile quest to make new friends? That’s…alarmingly desperate of you and honestly sitting somewhere between serial killer and underwear thief on the Big List Of Creepy Behaviour. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you haven’t made any new friends yet. But, well, you seem so lonely, so maybe I can give you a pointer or two on your quest for friendship? There are a few common pitfalls that, apparently, many people run into when trying to make friends and meet new people. I think I can point at least one of them for you:
Don’t call strangers in the middle of the night and ask them if they want to be your friend.
Oh, Fine.
SC:: “What’s the SR number?”
Me: “The technician will give you an SR number when he returns your call, sir.”
SC: “Oh, alright. So what’s the SR number?”
……Toast. The SR number is toast.
Monotony
SC: “Hmm, I wonder if a size small would fit me…..”
Me: “……..”
SC: "…...what do you think?”
You know, the lot of you on this line make the exact same stupid mistakes and ask the same stupid questions so often that you’ve essentially become cartoon like caricatures of yourselves. There’s only so many ways I can poke fun at you and so many jokes I can make at your expense. You’re running me out of material here! I can’t think of any other strange explanations for your behaviour, alright? We’ve covered everything from alcoholism to tragic head injuries to an abundance of childhood glue ingestion. There are only so many ways I can insinuate that they forgot to add chlorine to your gene pool. I don’t know how else I can poke fun your education system where the sole focus of grade 1-12 seems to be waving a stick around and making spaceship noises with your mouth.
There’s just no real nice way to say it anymore: You’re so stupid the English language has run out of ways to call you stupid. Okay? Alright? ….Whew. Felt good to finally get that off my chest. I feel much better now, thanks for listening!
Easy There
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “FRANK WANT ORDER 2 CAPS”
It seems there’s been a misunderstanding here. April Fool’s Day is, despite its name, is actually a day for playing pranks. Not a day that celebrates, well, you and encourages you to stumble out into the public at large to do what you do best. I know you were probably really excited when you heard about it, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but please put the phone down and go back to whatever it was you were doing before. Which I will assume was something involving gnawing on furniture or possibly wood chips if your friends read the care and feeding manual.
SC: “WANT TO BUY 2 CAP”
This is really going to be one of those “My lord, how did you even dial our number?” calls isn’t it?
Me: “Alright, so, Frank, F-R-A-N-K?”
SC: “Uh….F.......R......A......uhhh..."
Right, let’s just skip that one and move on. I’d like to keep my call time under half an hour.
Me: “And how do you spell your last name please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…….S........I........M.......O...no, wait. E? E......"
....Forget it, I'll just take a guess. Moving on.
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “What’s the area code for your phone number?”
SC: “<postal code>”
You’re….not going to get a single question right, are you?
Me: “Do you have a box number?”
SC: “Um….Box 531? Wait…..4...79?”
Not a single one.
Me: “That should arrive in about two weeks.”
SC: “How many weeks until it comin’ in?”
Me: “…Two.”
Do be careful when you go to hang up the phone, alright? It’d be a shame if you got tangled up in the phone cord and strangled yourself right after your moment of hat based glory. But I guess if it’s any consolation, the hats would arrive in time for the funeral. So at least you could be buried in “style”.
Seriously, Who Are You?
Me: “And this was what store?”
SC: “This is the store in….uh, I don’t know, where ever.”
….You don’t know where you are or where you work? I’m going to need a little bit of information to work with here. I don’t suppose you could maybe give me a hint? Even a province? Maybe an area code?
Me: “Can I have your phone number please, ma’am?”
SC: “Oh….uhhhh…..I don’t know….can I call you back?”
So you don’t know where you work, where you are or how to reach you? Do you even work there or did you just stumble in off the street and now you can't figure out how to log into Facebook on a cash register?
annnd rest.
Your posts have been ever so entertaining and terribly quotable. Best of luck writing and doing other fun things!
, and 
) stories. Good luck with your future plans and remember...thanks to you, out of nowhere once in while every one of us will suddenly think to ourselves...
Comment